


two fugitives walk into a bar-

by transbigbird



Category: Final Space (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bar Fight, Drunken Kissing, Fluff, M/M, eghh kinda?, hm this is kinda hard to tag, oh whats this? yet another garycato fic from me?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 04:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14512143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transbigbird/pseuds/transbigbird
Summary: Sometimes it's hard being in public when every corrupt head of some government wants you dead, but hey, this is a fun Saturday night.





	two fugitives walk into a bar-

**Author's Note:**

> hhhhhhhhhh heLLO it is almost 4 am sorry if this makes positively no sense pacing/plot wise mmmmmm thank you for coming
> 
> also this more of an au where the whole final space thing isn't going on, but more like gary, avocato, and quinn are universe-wide robin hoods who all take care of lil cato and also mooncake's there

_Something like this_ , Avocato thinks to himself, claws unsheathing, _always seems to happen, huh?_ He swings his hands at someone’s face, hears a yell. It’s something about their eye, which is followed by a thud as they stumble into a table and to the ground. Gary whoops behind him, a fist in the air, the other one landing in the adam’s apple of a throat. His “You totally got them, yo!” mixes in with the sound of choking. Avocato grins, claws digging into more skin. Maybe this wasn’t exactly how he imagined the night going, but at least they got a drink or two in beforehand. 

Quinn had kept saying that they were both “too stressed out about everything,” and that they needed to “chill the heck out.” She suggested going to a bar on some nearby planet while she worked on mission plans and _they_ worked on not breaking the communications panel because they’d been sitting at it for six hours and still couldn’t get any pings. Only after assuring them that Lil’ Cato would be fine and that KVN wouldn’t eat Gary’s cookies and that yes, Quinn’ll take care of everything and _yes_ , HUE would shoot them a message if needed, did they finally go. And when they landed on the planet and went inside the crowded bar, everything was fine really. After a few beers and maybe a sloppy kiss or two, their stress had seemed to roll off their shoulders smoother than their drinks went down their throats.

That is, until a group of bounty hunters recognized them from some news feed.

It happened kind of fast, really. First, there was Gary’s hand on his thigh - then there was a knife on his throat. After that, it gets a little blurry, but at the end of the day when you start a fight in a crowded bar full of drunk toughies, you start a fight with the _entire_ crowded bar full of drunk toughies. That’s how Avocato finds himself where he is now, hands dripping in blood and Gary loudly complaining about robot arm nerves.

“Why! Why put _feeling_ in these things!” he yells. “The SAMES don’t have to punch people in the jaw! They don’t need feeling!” A laser shoots by his face and lands in the chest of some lizard-esque thing, causing it to drop. Avocato ignores the guy running at him with a stool and grabs Gary around the waist as he hauls the both of them over the bar counter. They settle against the wood, tense and still ready to fight. Avocato picks at a claw that’s been nearly pulled from his skin, tells himself to take care of that later. Gary is huffing next to him.

“I hit somebody’s… somebody’s _mouth_ bones with _metal_ and it hurt _me!_ ” He shakes his arm out, wincing. “So unfair!” Avocato rolls his eyes and looks for an exit. There’s one next to the counter, currently being blocked by two dudes attempting to stab each other. He figures either they’ll stumble off somewhere or one of them will win. Either way, it’s happening eventually and waiting behind the bar seems smarter than being out in the open with knives being flung around and lasers being shot. 

“Hey, Gary,” Avocato says, scooting in closer. “Are there any drinks behind you?” Gary’s complaint ramble stops for a second, trying to process Avocato’s words over all the screaming and shooting.   
“Oh. Uh.” Gary turns, opens a cabinet. “Oh, hell yeah, man!” He pulls on the cabinet door more and waves Avocato over. “I think this is the good stuff cabinet! They’ve got Redberry Blood alien-vodka in here, haven’t had that in ages.” He pulls out a slender bottle full of shiny red liquid and pulls the top out. Taking a drink from it, he gestures to the cabinet’s insides. “Anything fancy in there for my big blue dude?” he asks. “Don’t worry about the price - it’s on the house.” He laughs, takes another drink, wipes his mouth. Avocato laughs with him and looks at Gary’s face. There’s a smudge of red next to his mouth and he wonders if it’s Gary’s drink or his blood from getting punched in the mouth himself. Then he’s thinking about cleaning it off from his face, but his hand hurts, so the only other _obvious_ option here is just to use his own mouth, too. Before he can think about it, he’s pulling Gary by his shirt collar. He drags their heads closer together until his lips meet the corner of Gary’s mouth. The red smudge is sweet and tastes too much like candy to be blood. Or at least Gary’s.

Gary sits still for a second, processing such a small moment alongside the smashing of glass and the sound of stomping boots.

“Huh.”

And then he giggles. It’s kind of a loud giggle, and honestly, it sounds more like choking than anything else. It’s definitely being fueled by alcohol and adrenaline and it’s such a _dumb_ thing to be so all over about in the middle of a giant bar fight but Avocato gets the noise stuck in his ears and _dang, I am head over freaking heels for this guy. Maybe also a little drunk._ Gary’s weird little laugh sticks the one-liner he had in his throat and, oh yeah, he totally looks so badass stuttering when he tries to say “I think I’ll just have what you’re having.” Gary laughs again at Avocato’s flusterful slip-up, and takes a big gulp from his bottle, properly smashing their mouths together. 

If Avocato were to be honest with himself, the drink is sweeter than he would appreciate on it’s own. In Gary’s mouth, however, it’s dulled down enough that it’s just this nice extra flavor they don’t usually get. It reminds him of limited edition candy flavors, the kinds that you wish you’d gotten more of when stores stop carrying them. It makes him think of all the other limited edition kisses he’s shared with Gary, like the one after the mission that almost killed them, mouths full of blood and sweat. Or the one where Gary almost suffocated from a fracture in his space helmet, his mouth coated in dry spit. Or when Avocato got poisoned by some kid on the street and all he could do was throw up. You get the idea on that one. 

He thinks of those ones, and he thinks of this one. It’s not blood, or dry spit, or half digested fish snacks. It’s candy and alcohol and, okay, maybe a _little blood_ , and it fills Avocato to the brim with _this is good, this is so good_. In his head, he declares it _the_ limited edition super awesome fantastic can’t-get-it-anywhere-else flavor that’ll sleep on his tongue until tomorrow.

And then Gary pulls back and he remembers that there’s a whole, you know, fiasco happening around them right now.

He looks back at the door where the two stabby boys were having their moment. They both seem to have gone off somewhere, seeing that there’s nothing blocking the door now. He reaches over Gary’s neck into the cabinet and grabs a bottle. He tugs Gary’s jacket off his shoulders asks, “can I borrow this for a moment?” When he replies yes, Avocato wraps the jacket around the bottle before smashing it on the ground. He unwraps the jacket, shakes it out, and hands it back, punctuating his “thanks, sorry,” with a kiss on his jaw. It’s only a ten foot stretch from their place on the floor to the door, but there’s time in ten feet. Avocato’s claws are killing his hands and he knows that the connection between Gary’s skin and his metal arm wasn’t made to handle the push of punches too well.

“Alright, ready to get out of here?” he asks, arming himself with the broken bottle. It drips something glowy and green onto his pants, and he tells himself to deal with that later, too. Gary holds the bottle of alcohol he has, a grin on his face.

“We made a mess of this place by, by… _existing_ , hell yeah. Let’s get out of here.” He tosses his jacket over his shoulder and takes Avocato’s hand. They move to a crouch, and when Avocato says three, they leap for the door at the same time. It opens with the weight of their bodies and they both fall a little to keep their balance. When they look up, there’s a gun being pointed at their heads and there’s a grin on the face of somebody who’s about to laugh. But there’s also Avocato’s quick reflexes and broken bottle in his hand and with a quick jab, the guy with a gun at their head becomes the guy with a gun on the floor.

“Dang,” Gary says. “Well that was quick. Good job, handsome.” Gary pats him arm and Avocato gives a flustered grin. 

“Come on. The Hawke’s still in the back, and I think we wanna hurry.” 

“Wait, wait, hold on.” Gary pats his pants pockets and frowns. “I left the lid to the bottle inside.” He lifts up the alien-vodka and drunkenly shakes the bottle, swishing the liquid inside. Avocato can’t help but laugh at Gary’s skewed priorities so much that he drops his own shattered glass and scoops Gary up to bring him to the Hawke himself, making sure that he doesn’t drip any of his lidless-bottle full of Redberry Blood vodka into the grass.

**Author's Note:**

> hell yeah you made it ! find me on tumblr @ transbigbird, ya big ol' wormio


End file.
